His Date With The Phantom's Daughter
by Mira-Jade
Summary: Someone actually had the nerve to ask the Phantom's daughter out on a date. Due to the author's insanity, the Phantom had to agree. Now chaos ensures, and a disaster beyond the poor young man's wildest imagination is about to occur. COMPLETE! FINALLY!
1. Let it be War

**Title:His Date With The Phantom's Daughter  
Author: MiraJade  
Subject: The Phantom of the Opera  
Genre: Humor, General  
Rating: K+  
Chapters: I'm thinking around 10, that's subject to change.  
Characters: Erik, Christine, Aria, and mystery date.  
Summary: Someone actually had the nerve to ask the Phantom's daughter out on a date. Due to the author's insanity, the Phantom had to agree. Now chaos ensures, and a disaster beyond the poor young man's wildest imagination is about to occur.  
Disclaimer: Phantom does not belong to me. Duh. Now read. (smiles sweetly) Please.**

**Chapter One  
Let It Be War**

_This is the moment every father dreads. The moment that I had hoped would never come. The day I had been planning ever since the doctor had announced that Christine had given birth to a beautiful baby girl._

Well, seventeen years had never prepared him for the moment she said. "Daddy, I met someone today."

His blood went cold as soon as the words left her mouth. Instantly wishing that time would rewind and take them horrid words back with them. His hand instinctively went to the lasso wrapped around his waist as he forced himself to be calm and rational. This was not a time to lose his temper. "That's great dear, I'm sure that _she_ is very nice."

Christine glared warningly from across the table as Aria fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. Erik tried not to enjoy her unease, as he silently willed her not to say what he knew was coming. "Well . . . Actually, I met this guy . . ."

"A guy?" He asked cautiously. Maybe this was all some huge misunderstanding.

No such luck. "Well, he's really nice, I'm sure you two would get along marvelously, gut he's asked me to be his date to the opera next evening, and I'd really like to go. With your permission, of course." She added hastily at the look in her father's eyes.

Erik's gaze would of froze fire. "Where did you meet him." He started the pre-planned interrogation.

"The hair salon-" Aria started.

Erik laughed as Christine hid a grin. "That sounds promising."

Aria looked frustrated. "It's not like that. He was just picking something up for his father." She paused as she reallied how ridiculous her statement was.

Erik was silent, waiting for her to continue. His look said enough. Really there was nothing to say"His name is Phillipe, and he's about my age. He's smart, and funny, and sweet. Just . . .I . . .I really, really like him! It's just one date. Oh, please daddy! May I go out with him!"

She laced her hands together beseechingly, and yet he was unmoved. "No."

"What! Why!"

"Because, " Erik began calmly, "I don't know anything about this boy. You could be wanting to date a rapist, or an insane murderer for all I know. Secondly, he's an 18 year old boy with hormones. I don't trust him. Third of all, I am just not ready for you to date. . . .

-30 minutes latter-

. . . . And reason number 67, I personally think that you are too young to go out with boys."

" I can see you have thought this all out." Aria commented wryly.

"You have no idea." Erik replied.

Aria was momentarily silent as she wondered how to get around her father's resolve. She turned to Christine. "Mommy," She pleaded, "Please tell daddy to let me go out with Phillipe!"

Erik looked at Christine guardedly, waiting for her attempt to persuade him. "Aria, you know that I cannot tell your father what to do. I gave up on that years ago." Erik smiled triumphantly. "Yet, I personally would have no problem if you were able to convince him."

Erik looked over at his wife, a wounded look on his face. "We're supposed to agree on things dear. I thought that you didn't want her dating until she was at least 35 either."

"I'm not disagreeing with you, I just think that we should give this boy a chance. I gave you a chance -"

"It's more like I begged, threatened, and deceived you for a chance."

Christine ignored him. "My father would've given you one."

"Then your father is stupid." Erik answered.

Christine looked frustrated. "Let's just try it. I trust Aria's judgment."

Erik tried not to laugh. "If it's anything like her mother's, then we should worry."

"What's that supposed to mean!"

"It means that you had your choices narrowed down to a deformed, demented, murderer; or the rich, fruity, fop."

"Which one where you?" Aria asked suddenly.

Christine smiled smugly at Erik. _Yes dear, which one where you? The murderer or the fop?_

"We'll talk about that some other time," He dodged the incriminating question. He forced a smile on his face, yet inside he was worried. He'd known eventually that she would date. She was beautiful. How could any man in his right mind resist? With her deep golden eyes, and long curls of ebony hair. She had a sweet captivating charm about her, and a voice that would make Angels jealous. He wanted to hide this rare treasure form the world. Keep her locked up, and hidden away so that she would never have to suffer anything. He was possessive, and unfortunately she was going to feel the brunt of it.

Christine watched the emotions running threw her husband's eyes. She hated disagreeing with him, yet she really believed that Aria was ready for this. She needed to try her wings. She wasn't ready to fly, but they needed to tackle this issue sooner or latter. If it was up to Erik Aria would remain single, and celibate until he died. He was so controlling. Most of the time she didn't mind, ot was one of the things that she loved about him, but sometimes it really did get annoying.

"Mom was my age when she met you," Aria pointed out.

Christine cringed. Bad point to make . . .

Erik blanched, "Aria, believe me, creating parallels to our early relationship will get you nowhere."

Aria sighed. "Is there any way that I can convince you?"

"None at all."

Christine looked at Erik expectantly, he was going to have to give in sooner or latter . . .He looked at Aria, painful consideration etched onto his face."We're only going to see an Opera dad. It's perfectly innocent, and we won't be doing a whole lot of communicating."

"You can be doing plenty of "communicating."Especially if the music isn't as good as it should be. The last place I want you is in a dark theater with a boy."Erik huffed.

Christine sighed, "I think we've taught her better than that. She'll start dating eventually. Why not now?"

Aria still looked patiently at her father. She was determined to win this. "Please daddy! I promise that I won't ever ask for anything ever again!" She paused, considering her options."Daddy, that's all I ask of you." She sung softly.

Erik glared at the mention of the cursed fop song. Then he caught the puppy dog stare. Oh no. Her voice was oddly compelling, he thought, I can teach her to use that to her advantage . . . He shook his head. Pathetic random thought! She was still giving him that look . . .Was that tears? Oh no. It couldn't be tears. He was a sucker for tears . . . Pull yourself together! You're the infamous Phantom of The Opera, The Living Corpse, The Opera Ghost, The Angel of Death, Red Death . . .

Yet even the infamous character he masqueraded at would of melted at the sight of the puppy pout. He mustered up his strength. "Aria . . .I said no . . ." He stammered. He caught the brunt of the stare.

Christine smiled.

"Oh, all right. You can date the boy." He threw up his hands in defeat. Disgusted with himself. Aria squealed in delight as she threw her arms around him. She hugged him briefly before leaving the kitchen to pick out the gown for the next evening. Christine smiled proudly at him. Erik just glared at her.

"Thank-you Erik" She said softly as she kissed him."And don't worry, everything will be fine."

He watched her leave slowly before rising himself. His dark cloak fell from his arms like the wings of a bat, as he moved to blow out the candles. Eighteen years he had prepared for this. Oh, he knew there would be no problems. He would make sure of that personally . . .The boy was going to be running scared all the way to London by the end of act one.

Now let it be war.

**So did you like it? If you did then please review. Reviews make me happy. I update sooner when I'm happy . . .**

**-MJ**


	2. Son of a Fop

**Wow! Thanks everyone for all of the great reviews. They all really made me fell good. Sorry the update took so long. I am the slowest typer in the world, and it really stinks some times. Anyway, on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: Guess what I still don't own? You've guessed right. I still don't own Phantom.**

**Chapter Two  
Son of a Fop**

One hour left. One hour more hoping that Aria wold change her mind about the date. Although he knew that wouldn't happen, it never hurt to hope. Christine sat in a chair in their room, a well thumbed copy of Faust in her hands. She watched him warily from the corner of her eyes, not trusting him out of her sight.

She would not tolerate any more murders in her house.

Erik got up from the finances he was settling to move to the floor next to their bed. She looked curiously at him from across the room. Humming softly he pressed something that just looked like a nail in the floorboards to her. As he pressed a trapdoor in the floor sprang open. She glared at him. She had assumed that he had gotten over his obsession with hidden springs.

He didn't even look at her as she got up to see what he was doing."Erik?" She called cautiously.

He was still humming softly. Completely ignoring her as she made her was over to where he was. Her breath caught, and her eyes bulged as she saw what her husband was dragging out. She cursed in French, Persian, Russian, and Italian. Erik smiled. He had always assumed that she didn't pick up on his multilingual phrases. "What are these!" Her voice shook

"What? These?" Erik asked as he picked up a lethal looking sai. It's twin still gleaming in it's emerald studded holster. He turned the oriental weapon over fondly in his hand before putting it down. He disappeared before returning with another cache of weapons."Yes these!"Christine exclaimed. "Nadir would have your head if he saw these!"

Erik smiled, infuriating her."Hence the hidden trap door." He laid the various weapons down on the bed. Forgetting herself for a moment she picked up a ceremonial dagger. The weapon seemed more like a work of art than an instrument of death. Diamonds no larger than specks of dust covered the hilt, shinning like the Persian sands it was made to resemble. She scolded herself for her momentary lapse. That didn't excuse anything. "You're insufferable." She whispered. "Do you know what would happen if someone found these?"

Erik shrugged. Not really caring. It wasn't like he used them anymore. They where simply souvenirs from the past. He hadn't had cause to harm anyone in a long time. He had promised to many people. Yet he had kept these for just this occasion. Interments perfect for causing fear instead of inflicting any real damage . . .

It was his best insurance that that miserable punk kept his hands to himself.

Christine must have read it in his eyes. "No. I forbid it. You can't, Erik."

"Can't what?" He turned innocent eyes on his wife.

She glared at him. She knew him way to well. She turned her gaze to the assortment of various knives, daggers, swords, sai's, lassos, pistols, and other exotic weapons that she couldn't identify. Her blue eyes turned smoky as she picked up one of the tools. He wouldn't _dare_! "Is this what I think it is?" She demanded as she picked up a cauterization kit.

Erik laughed as he took it from her. "Lets just say that the Khanum knew some of the finner points of torture. Thank-You, I was looking for these."

Christine looked at him furiously. This could not be happening. She didn't trust Erik's temper enough to have these weapons and Aria's boyfriend in one house. This had disaster written all over it. "No Erik. I will not allow this! These weapons all have to go. I'm sure Nadir, or any one of your numerous contacts will love to take these over for you." She paused thoughtfully. "Now that I think about it, Nadir would demand to have them."

"I bet he would." Erik agreed, yet he made no move to dispose of the weapons. The argument would have continued, had Aria not called softly from her parent's doorway. "Mom, Dad . . . I'm ready."

Christine looked at Erik threateningly. This was not over, her eyes told him softly. Not by a long shot. Her flashing eyes calmed as she looked over to where her daughter's voice came from. "I'm sure that you look lovely." Christine said warmly, yet Aria still didn't enter. "Why don't you show us?" She encouraged. Erik just sulked moodily.

Aria came hesitantly as Erik waited in silent dread. She came into full view, and all of his worst fears came true. She was beautiful. A long, elegant dress, the deepest shade of crimson swirled as she walked with a graceful, unhurried stride into the room. The dress was off at the shoulders, and dipped way to low for Erik's taste. That boy better be keeping his eyes on her face, and not any lower. Her long black curls where drawn up into an elegant chignon, a few strands breaking free to frame a angelic face, so much like her mothers. Intense greenish-gold eyes stared out from beneath long lashes, silently piercing as she looked for approval. The only jewelry she wore was the only touch she needed, a crystal rose, on a long silver chain. The same one he remembered giving Christine years ago. He had to fight back a sudden wave of emotion. His little angel was growing up.

Christine had tears glowing in her eyes as she went over to envelope her daughter in a tight hug. "You look wonderful dear! Oh my goodness, you've grown so fast . . ." She wiped at her eyes. "Sorry, I'm getting all choked up." She sniffled, and hugged Aria tighter.

Aria squirmed out of her mother's embrace, as she looked to her father for approval. Her eyes glowed uncertainly. He thought for a moment before speaking. "You look very nice." He said, Aria smiled triumphantly, then he continued. "I just do hope that there is more to that dress."

Aria looked confused. "What?"

"You heard correctly." Erik said walking up to her. He paused thoughtfully before moving the shoulder straps up her shoulders. Covering as much flesh as possible. "It just needs a few adjustments. It's a dress I'd love to see on your mother, just not on my daughter. Especially on my daughter, who's on her first date, in a dark auditorium."

Aria turned crimson as the straps stubbornly refused to stay up, much to Erik's chagrin. "They're meant to stay off the shoulder. They won't stay up."

Erik glared at her. "Then you find a way to keep them up. Unless you want me to be the one to pick out your outfit."

"Dad!" Aria exclaimed in horror. Christine bit back an acidic retort. Her patience with Erik finally running thin, and the date hadn't even begun yet!Aria folded her arms across her chest self-consciously. Unsure of what to do next. Then she noticed all of the weapons spread across her parents bed. "Uh," She started uncertainly. "Where you and mom having a fight?"

"Not exactly." Christine began, Erik had to try to hide a grin.

"Then why are they out, no, first of all, where did they even come from?"

"Nowhere." Erik answered hastily. "I've had them for a long time."

Aria was starting to figure things out. "Why did you pick now to bring them out?"

"I'm not sure," Erik said casually. "They where starting to get dusty."

Aria raised a skeptical eyebrow at the gleaming weapons. They didn't look very dusty to her. . . Yet, it wasn't her place to question her father, especially since she was supposed to be on her best behavior. . . "It's nice that you are catching up on your exotic weapons maintenances, and all, but may you be sure that you keep them out of site when Phillipe gets here. He isn't exactly the bravest person I know."

Erik didn't bother to remark that any boy who had enough courage to ask out the daughter of a over possessive, trained killer, must be at least slightly brave. He was to busy dreading the next fifteen minutes. Christine was the one that answered Aria, "Don't worry dear, they'll be out of sight." Christine glared at her husband, "Won't they?"

"Nowhere in sight." Erik answered perhaps a little to quickly. His gloved hands clenched the lasso he held even tighter, if that where possible. Trying not to imagine himself snapping that infernal boy's neck. He was cut out of his pleasant thoughts by the piercing sound of the door bell ringing. So this was it. He was here, and time seemed to stand still. He decided that he didn't like this. Not one bit.

Aria's whole face lit up, and he tried not to notice it. Why did she have to be so exited about this. it was nauseating. Before he could say anything Aria sprinted out the door, and down the stairs. A wondrous feat in her many layers of skirts. Leaving her parents to stare apprehensively at each other. It was time. "Mom! Dad! He's here!"She called as she realized that she wasn't being followed. "Come on dad! You used to be a Phantom! How come now you go so slow?"

Erik sulked down the stairs after Christine. Not nearly as exited as Aria was. He was still hoping that her date would fall out of the carriage and break his neck. It would save him another murder. Even though he didn't think that Nadir would mind this one . . . He shook away his tempting thoughts as Aria opened the door.

He held his breath . . .

The words he had been dreading all night finally came. "Good evening Monsieur. I am the Vicomte Phillipe De Chagny, son of the Comte Raoul De Chagny, and I'll be taking your daughter out tonight."

The world seemed to spin as a thousand horrid memories came flooding back. No. It couldn't be. . .Oh no . . . Why . . . Only one thought escaped his mouth as the retched words began to sink in . . . This wasn't a joke, was it. it had to be. . .

"Son of a Fop . . ."

**So was I really that see threw? Well people, you guessed right. Now to see your reactions . . . (And Erik's reaction coming up next . . . HeeHeeHee . . .)**

****


	3. Like Mother, Like Daughter

**And your wonderfully reclusive author has an update! It's about time, but I hope that it worth the wait. I really had fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. So anyway, here's chapter three, where fops are insulted, Erik struggles not to strangle people, and his career as a stalker is officially revived!**

**Chapter Three  
Like Mother, Like Daughter**

This couldn't be happening.

Anything but this, she could have brought home any bum off of the streets. Anyone would have been preferable to that . . . that . . .that _fop_ of a boy!

He stood glowering next to Christine. Eyes burning as they glared at the insolent boy. Christine's firm, unyielding grip on his left arm preventing him from grabbing the lasso, and Punjabbing the . . . He broke off the tempting thought as he listened to Christine wish the happy couple a good time.

He didn't trust himself to speak.

* * *

Aria looked questioningly at her father. Searching for his approval. She had chosen well, hadn't she? Phillipe was everything that a father could hope for his daughter. He was sweet, smart, handsome, it also should have helped that he was from one of the oldest, and most respected nobel families in all of France. He should have been happy for her . . .

* * *

He should have been happy for her. Look at her. . . She was so happy . . . The was she looked up at him told him all that he needed to know. Her golden eyes glowed happily as she hung on his arm. A ever constant smile curving the edges of her painted lips. She looked so . . . so . . . so like Christine did years ago. Yet, he couldn't be happy for her. Why a . . . a . .. he forced the word threw his mind. A Chagny.

Anyone but a De Chagny.

* * *

He had finished greeting Aria's mother, and turned with slight apprehension to meet her father. A lump formed in his throat as he met the man's intimidating stare. His eyes where the color of golden flames, just like Arias. Yet Aria didn't make him feel like a . . . he searched for the right word, like a fop every time that she looked at him. It was bad enough meeting his girlfriends father, yet he didn't exactly expect the man to be like this.

He gulped and moved forward to shake the man's hand. He hid an embarrassed flush as her father's arms remained firmly at his sides. Not showing one sign of budging from his rigid position. he tried to ignore the breech of etiquette as he said, "I'd like to thank-you for letting me take your daughter out tonight, monsieur. I know that you must be hesitant to part with her."

You have no idea. Erik thought, yet still he said nothing, afraid that if he did he would end up doing something rash. The insolent boy showed no fear as he gazed up at him. His bright blue eyes where bright, and piercing as he evenly held his gaze. He was impressed despite himself. A awkward moment of silence passed as he was actually at a loss for words. Aria eventually spoke "Well, thank-you for letting me go." She tugged slightly on Phillipe's arm, silently urging him to leave, before the inevitable interrogation began.

Yet her parents where silent to her surprise as she turned to leave. Erik watched them go, desperate to stop them, yet completely at a loss for what to do. Christine saw her husbands silence, and elbowed him hard in the ribs. He let out a whoosh of air as he called after them, "And have a good time!" Christine nodded in approval as she led him back into the house, not trusting him to be able to walk unaided. Erik sighed in relief as Christine removed her claw like grip from his arm. Not even noticing the angry red marks he nails had left behind.

He glared at no one in particular as he moved towards the kitchen. "I need a drink." He rasped from a suddenly very dry throat. All of the beauty had drained from his voice, leaving it cold and metallic.

"Let me join you." She mumbled.

He opened a bottle of something. At that moment he didn't exactly care what. He winced as the burning liquid scorched his throat.

He was going to need something stronger.

"This is quickly transforming into one of the worst days of my life." He rasped.

"If it's as bad as you look, then you better keep drinking, " Christine suggested, yet took the bottle from her husband. The last thing she needed was a drunk Phantom on her hands.

Erik didn't even notice the lose of the liquor, he only had one thing on his mind. Aria and Phillipe. This was a disaster. It was bad enough before. Aria liking any guy was trouble. Yet this was unacceptable. He could have handled any other boy but this one. Any other boy he could have just strangled. This was a special case.

The father knew to much.

"This is all your fault, " He grumbled.

Christine looked up in surprised, cut from her own thoughts. "How do you figure that?" She asked.

"She's your daughter. I'm sure that she didn't get her love of the fop from me."

Christine sighed in annoyance. "Lets not start that again Erik. I chose you."

"Yes," He agreed. "After I threatened, begged, and dropped a seventeen ton chandelier for you."

Christine nodded fondly at the old memories. "Yes you did get rather protective."

Erik nodded absently, the only good thing about Aria's choice in men was that it was going to make presenting his case to Christine so much easier. It would have been harder to get her to agree with any other boy but maybe, just maybe . . ."Then you know why I must go after them."He said softly."

Christine's bemused expression fell as she heard his quiet statement. "You're joking right?" She said, trying not to laugh at the pure idiocy of his statement. Her humor slowly left as she saw the quiet serious expression on her husband's face. "You're serious aren't you?"

"Perfectly."

"No. You can't. I forbid it Erik I absolutely forbid it!"

Erik cocked his visible left eyebrow as if daring her to try. Christine flattered at the determined look that had filled his burning eyes."Oh no! You can't. You'll be arrested! Or caught, or noticed! Or be subjected to some really unnecessary questions!"

Erik looked wounded at his clearly livid wife. "You insult me. Do you really think me to be that much out of practice? Stalking two oblivious teens really shouldn't be that hard! I used to accomplish far more difficult tasks then this in that same building."

"Yes. Eighteen years ago!"

"It's like riding a bike, you can never forget how to stalk!"

"I don't believe I am having this conversation!" Christine exclaimed. "You are going to stay away from Aria and her date, or so help me, you will sleep on the couch for the rest of your life!"

Erik didn't look the least bit fazed. "Worth it. Now I really must be leaving. The last thing I need to do is be late for the first act. If it really bothers you that much, just think of me as a unofficial chaperon, not a stalker."

Christine sighed in frustration as she saw him grab his cloak, and seriously plan to leave. Silently she considered her options. If she couldn't stop him, then the very least she could do was tag along and make sure that he didn't do something stupid. She sighed in defeat as Erik looked expectantly at her. "I'm coming with you."

**So did you like? If you like then please review. Reviews make me update faster!**


	4. Chaperons

**I have an update. Shocked? What? I updated on time. Sort of . . .**

**Chapter 4  
Chaperons**

"This is insane." Christine whispered. It was latter that evening and she now joined Erik in the large crowd of people currently streaming inside the Opera House. "Utterly insane."

Erik didn't reply, just brushed off her comments as he had been doing all night. His eyes were currently scanning the crowd for her daughter and the Fop de Junior. He cursed when he couldn't find them in the stand still line. Christine buried her head in her hands as she started to realize that her husband wasn't planning on going anywhere. Her head snapped up as she finally realized something. "Erik, how do you expect to get in? We don't even have tickets."

Erik turned to her. "I have my ways."

"A little late to start being the Opera Ghost all over again."

"You underestimate me." Erik said, his perfected tone of mock pain settling into his voice.

"I don't underestimate you. I just know you better than that. I'm just here to make sure that you don't get arrested. Do you know what will happen if one person recognizes you? _One_ person Erik!" Christine's eyes were darting around nervously as she expected someone to jump out of the shadows and get them. This was horrible . . .

"How can they recognize me?" Erik asked. "I'm perfectly inconspicuous." As he spoke the flickering flames from the torches outside the theater cast a shadow across half of his face. Perfectly illuminating the full black mask he had chosen to wear.

Christine arched an eyebrow at him, yet said nothing. She had learned at this point in the game, words were pointless.

After a awkward moment Erik pulled out his pocket watch, when he saw the time he scowled and shoved it back in with a vengeance. "At this rate we'll be lucky to make it in by the end of the first act."

Christine tried to look sympathetic, but failed miserably. She just hoped that he would forget this crazy plot and go home before anyone got hurt. She thought for a moment. Or arrested, or strangled, or anything else like that. She found her hopes to be in vain. With a frustrated sigh, and dramatic swirl of his cape he was gone, quietly streaking across the plaza outside of the Garnier. She sighed in frustration before scrambling after him. "Erik? Where are you going? We just lost our place in line. Now it will take forever-"

Erik turned to face her in annoyance, then his eyes focused on a point behind her. He whispered a curse. Before she could demand to know what had caught his attention she turned to look behind her. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Nadir!"

"Madame." he greeted her warmly, a old trusted friend of the family. His jade eyes were warm as he looked past her at the annoyed Phantom. "Erik, I had thought that I had seen you. Although I am not sure why you are leaving so soon."

Erik's mind was working furiously. If Nadir knew why he was here . . . He could ruin everything. He already knew about the trap door by the fountain, or else he wouldn't be pointing out that I am leaving. Was everything destined to go wrong this night? He chose his words very carefully. "Well you know my patience Daroga. I absolutely hate long lines."

Nadir cocked a dark eyebrow. Clearly not believing him. "So you finally manage to return after a eighteen year absence. What's the occasion."

Erik seethed silently. To tell the truth, or to not tell the truth . . . he decided to gamble.

"Nothing special," He said in a nonchalant voice. "Just reminiscing, looking back on old times."

"Such happy times, weren't they?" The Persian said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Erik looked indignant. "They were very happy." Christine snickered. "OK well they were happy if you compare them to Mazenderan."

Nadir looked as if he actually agreed. "Why are you leaving?"

"Well the detective in you certainly hasn't died."

Nadir just looked patiently at his old friend. More than ready to wait the insufferable man out. The minutes to the opening act were ticking away, and he knew how much Erik hated to be late for a performance.

Finally Erik let up. "Aria's on her first date."

Nadir had been prepared for any explanation, but this one took him by surprise. A looked of stunned expression crossed his face. "She's on a date?"

"I believe I said that."

"You let her date live?"

"Barely." Christine mumbled, Erik glared.

"Why does everyone always assume the worst?" Erik sighed irritably."I'm a respectable member of society now."

Nadir and Christine laughed. Erik glared some more.

"Funny. I couldn't just strangle him. Not when Aria's perfect taste choose none other then the Vicomte Phillipe de Chagny." Erik illuminated this new piece of information, enjoying the look that crossed Nadir's face.

"Oh Allah." He breathed in disbelief. "You let him live."

"So far all you talk about is this young man's death. Are you really trying to make me go back on my promise after all of these years?' Erik noted with amusement. "I'm just here for some very discreet, unintrusive chaperoning."

"Unintrusive?"

"Very discreet." Erik assured him.

Christine groaned. "Now I'm just here to see how long he upholds this new policy."

Nadir nodded in understanding. "So." He said at length. "The trapdoor by the fountain?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erik and Nadir moved nimbly threw the catacombs that laced the bowls of the Opera Populair. The dark, musty corridors were still so familiar all og these years later. No time to pause and remember though. She was still to busy trying to keep up with the Phantom and the Daroga of Mazenderan. She glared at their backs as she pushed frills of cob webs out of her way. Her molten blue eyes were furious as they kept up with her husband. They spoke rapidly to each other in Persian. Completely ignoring her presence.

She hated being ignored.

"Erik." She called. "Would you mind cluing me in on your plans yet?"

Erik paused and waited for her to catch up. "I can't do anything without some information. I need to know where they are sitting, who they're next to, ect."

Christine sighed. "If that was all that you were saying, then you wouldn't be speaking in Persian."

Erik shrugged. "We could be talking in Russian."

"Arabic." nadir suggested.

"Italian." Erik said. "You know how much she would love that."

Christine glared. "You two are hilarious."

"Thank you." Erik said, and didn't continue their conversation as his attention was drawn to a small access door at the end of the tunnel. Christine looked curiously as the small corridor widened into a small chamber. Chains latched onto hooks and pulleys firmly attached to the walls and ceiling formed one giant counter weight. The floor of the chamber vaulted up in the center to form a vague upraised structure. Through a small foggy glass window crystals glittered and glowed against the muralised backdrop of heavenly angels . . .

Realization struck. "The chandelier." She whispered. "We're above the chandelier."

Erik turned to glance at Nadir. "We'll make a detective out of her yet."

Christine glared as the two men turned to the small door at the end of the chamber. Before they entered Erik turned to look at her. "Make sure you are silent. Sounds echo easily up here."

She looked curious spite herself as they made their way onto the small balcony outside the maintenance chamber, and she found herself looking at a scene out of her memories. They were on a ledge at the very top of the theater, above even the gilded angels whews outstretched arms reached out to encompass the audience below. In front of them the reconstructed chandelier hung in all of its sparkling splendor. Wide blue eyes took in her old home in a view she knew only a few human eyes have ever seen.

Nadir smiled at the expression on her face as Erik leaned in to whisper, "The best view in the house besides Box 5."

She smiled as she leaned back against him, feeling his arms wrap around her in a familiar position. Her daughter, and her date temporarily forgotten. As he held her his eyes swept over the familiar boxes that lined the auditorium. His eyes narrowed as he saw a girl with long ebony hair, and a very flattering crimson dress. Besides her an implacably dressed young man with wheat colored hair hanging down to his shoulders.

He had found them! They were both on the left side of the theater in a very dark secluded box. very dark. Too dark . . .

His golden eyes turned molten as he saw the Vicomte put an arm around his daughter. Miserable punk. He mentally snarled. You can move right back over, and keep your perfumed, manicured hands to yourself! He saw red when he saw him lean over to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Soft not for long though . . .

With a snarl of rage he flung away from Christine, and shot back into the dark passage. His cloak streaming behind him like a vengeful demon as Christine called for him to wait. When the lasso appeared in his hands she took off after him furiously. Yelling something about 'no more murders.' Nadir cocked an eyebrow at the fleeing couple as he looked to where Erik had been looking before his arupt departure. Oh Allah! This really was not good!

He muttered a quick prayer as he hoped that the suicidal Vicomte had enough sense to keep his hands ay the level of his eyes . . .

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**Wow!A update! Yay. It sure took me long enough. Oh well, it was my longest chapter yet. I sure hope you enjoyed it. And I brought nadir in! Yay. He has always been one of my favorite characters, I had to add him.**

**So review, and tell me what you think about my latest development. **

**Who's for a strangled Vicomte?**

**Any takers? Hmmm?**

**Just kidding. I need to keep him around . . . for now.**

****


	5. The Best Laid Plans

**Sorry for the long wait in between updates. I had Strep Throat, and then tons of make up work from school. Then it turns out that my anti-biotic didn't stamp out the infection all of the way, and I had to go through a week of throat pains all over again. It's been beautiful.**

**So now I update and I look forward to many, many get well soon reviews. Oh yes, satisfy my insatiable vanity and review about the story as well!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. It's all ALW, Kay, and Leroux!**

**Chapter Five  
The Best Laid Plans**

Erik saw red.

Dimly in the background he could make out Christin's furious protests, and enraged commands for him to stop. He of course listened as good as could be expected from a former felon, meaning, he completely ignored her. He had only one thing on his mind. Aria and Phillipe. He had known thatshe wasn't ready for this. He had known! But did anyone listen, noooo. She had to go on her oh-so-cute-I-can't-believe-you're-finally-grown-up date, with her adorable young man. Humph. No one eversuspected the quiet ones.

Or the rich ones he thought with a amused smirk to himself.

The one thought that comforted him that this worked strongly in his favor. After this there would be no question next time a boy came calling. He'd just have to say no, and then the subject would be dropped. Sweet and simple. Aria would live in dateless, boyless, Amish existence until the day he died.

After that he would have to carry on his wishes threw a will . . .

Dimly he heard Christine behind him, and he did his best to ignore her. The last thing that he needed right now was her being the conscious that he never wanted to begin with. A few quick turns here and there, disappearing threw a trapdoor on the left before sprinting up a stair case on the right, and he eventually lost her in the dark labyrinth that used to be his home.

A evil grin cut across his face.

That boy had no idea who he was dealing with.

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Christine stared at her fleeing husband. What could have gotten into him? Everything hd been goiing so well. She actually had been enjoying herself. Then out of nowhere he had takken off like a bat out of hell. The lasso clutched tightly in his hands, and a murderous expression marring his masked face.

She panicked.

She had said no more murders.

No more murders, and by God she had meant every word of it. She stopped in bewilderment as the tunnel split off into five different directions. She groaned in frustration, this really wasn't good.

She swallowed hard as Nadir came up next to her.

"Where could he have gone?" She asked in frustration.

"Box eleven." Nadir answered. "On the Grand Teir. Really not a bad seat. I mean it has nothing on Box Five, but it is a very nice seat nonetheless."

Christine gave a scowl that Erik would have been proud of. "Why would he be going there?" A look of worry replaced the ugly grimace as understanding finally hit. "Oh no, he found them."

"Oh yes he found them." Nadir confirmed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Christine asked.

"It means that they were close enough to seriously endanger the Vicomte's health if Erik manages to get there before us."

Christine cursed. She had trusted Aria, had vouched for her repeatedly. Never again. Never. If she needed a relationship that bad, then they might consider looking into a arranged marriage. Something simple, and loveless. No more dating. Not now. Not ever.

"What's the quickest way to get there?" Christine asked. Nadir had kept tabs on Erik for a very long time. It was really possible that he retained more knowledge of these tunnels than she did.

As she asked Nadir surveyed the tunnels before them, trying to look for a familiar landmark, or something to just give him a clue to where they were. Finally he said, "To tell you the truth, I have no idea. I mean, it's been eighteen years."

Christine sighed. "You're a big help."

"I don't see you coming up with anything better." Nadir countered.

"The majority of my time in these tunnels was spent unconscious." Christine snapped, and Nadir had to try and hide a grin. Erik had often complained about that.

Christine glared before turning to the nearest tunnel. "Some detective you are. Come on."

Nadir bristled as he followed his friend's wife. "My job was easy until I had to keep tabs on a ghost." Yet inwardly he smiled. He doubted that even Sherlock Holmes would have been able to keep up with Erik's dubious dealings.

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As Erik moved threw the lst trapdoor that led him to the Grand Teir he winced at the torch light hit him. His luminous eyes had adjusted to the pitch blackness of the tunnels, and the contrast between his familiar domain, and the world above was not a welcome one.

Keeping to the shadows of the deserted corridor he moved silently, and unnoticed. He noticed with a morbid satisfaction the thrill that ran threw him after years absence at stalking.

He would never admit how much he had missed this.

The overture started, and he paused to listen. Faust, he recognized the tune almost immediately, and he smiled.

Oh how fitting.

He walked further as the music streamed threw his body, and he started humming along. Abruptly he stopped mid-measure as the lead Baritone player hit a flat note. He winced. That note again. There it was. . . Playing over and over again. . . He took a deep calming breath. He was not the Opera Ghost no more. He was not here to fix the Opera Populare's numerous orchestra problems. He was simply a very overprotective father spying on his daughter. Now the trouble was him trying to remember this.

He sighed, the Baritone player would have to wait.

Feeling slightly more at ease he released a breath that he hadn't even noticed that he had been holding. All was well, he'd simply snap the boys neck, and then leave.

The flat A from the Baritone player hit his sensitive ears, and he snarled.

That's it! Someone was going to be strangled!

As soon as he was about to change his course he paused. The box sign next to him . . . Box Eleven!

The Baritone player was promptly forgotten.

He heard a male voice come from the box, and he was momentarily confused. From the few minuted that he had spent with the Vicomte he really didn't remember his voice sounding like that. He shrugged. Oh well.

He pulled an ornate candle holder across the hallway and smiled as a trapdoor opened up to him. This was going to be just like old times.

Reminiscing is good.

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**OK I know it was short, but I ended up with a really long chapter and had to cut it off somewhere.**

**So read and review!**

**MJ**


	6. A Mistaken Identity

**OK, a quick update, and I hope you enjoy this one, it has a twist.**

**When your done, check out the vignette I did off of this story, it's called "Mommy, How Did You Meet Daddy?" And I think the title is pretty self-explanatory. It really is cute, you should review it. You know you want too . . .**

**Chapter Six  
A Mistaken Identity**

Christine sighed as they went threw yet another tunnel.

She was sick of cobwebs. She was sick of rats. She was sick of the dank, musty air of the underground labyrinth. She was sick of the soot, of the grime, of the water that trickled down the forgotten stone walls, of the memories that accompanied this place. She splashed through another puddle, and winced as the water soaked the bottom of her petticoats. She was going to strangle Erik with his own noose.

Up ahead of Christine Nadir's brow furled in puzzlement. He was almost certain that they had been down this particular tunnel before. That grate had been passed up at least once before.

They were lost.

"The Vicomte's going to be dead by the time that we get there." Christine complained behind him, and he gave an absentminded shrug. Oh well one less fruity noble to worry about.

Christine noticed his nonchalant response, and her eyes narrowed slightly. She really wasn't going to find a likely ally in her Persian friend. A sigh escaped her lips as she cast her eyes across her surrounding's. There had to be something around here that she recognized . . .

Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed something up ahead. Stone cast human hands, unlit tunnels, a large gilded mirror, and a window to the world above. She suddenly knew exactly where she was . . . "My dressing room!" She exclaimed.

Nadir looked ahead to where she had pointed, and hope lit in his jade eyes. Thank Allah! They were saved.

Christine gathered her voluminous blue skirts in her hands, and sprinted forward. Only pausing to work the mirrors mechanism with eager fingers. At her skillful prodding the mirror swung dutifully open to reveal her old rooms to her. She smiled as memory after memory hit her. Some happy, and some sad. It felt so wonderful to be her, so good to be back!

Nadir watched fondly as his friend's wife spun happily around the room, her eyes bright with joy. It was just like old times.

Yet the room no longer belonged to her, and the last thing that they needed was the room's current occupant to come back and find a middle-aged foreign man, and an exuberant former diva in her room. "Come on Christine, we really should be going." Christine sobered, and nodded before following him out of the room. "We need to find your husband before someone else does."

Christine sighed as her predicament came back to her in full force. They really should be going. She smiled as they walked down the hallway that she had walked down so many times before. She smiled. If Erik didn't end up in jail she would consider this a successful trip.

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Above Box 11 Erik smiled.

Unobserved at the hollow crawl space inside the deck that separated the Grand Teir from the Teir below it, and flanked by golden angels on either side of him he stared down threw the small viewing space at the top of the two young people's heads.

For the last twenty minutes he had been using his ventriloquist skills to murmur softly to the boy. Slowly convincing the idiotic Vicomte that he was going insane.

He had forgotten how much fun that this was.

The young man shook his head, as if trying to shake the voice away, and Erik had to suppress a laugh. _Oh poor fool, it will take more than that to get rid of me_, he thought in amusement.

Oh so much more than that.

Below him the Vicomte moved closer to the woman clad in red, slowly he slipped his arm around her shoulders. Erik was irked. _Put your hands back right now you fool, unless you really want to find yourself at the end of a hangman's noose._ Yet, the idiot below him seemed determined to ignore his warning. He leaned in, and . . . Golden eyes turned molten, and the fun of convincing the Vicomte to doubt his mental state was suddenly lost. No more mister nice Phantom . . .

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Meanwhile Christine and Nadir just entered the hallway outside of the Grand Teir, intently studying the shadows cast by the dim candle light. No luck, now just wait for the scream, just wait for the scream . . .

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It was easy for Erik to slip the lasso threw the silt that allowed a lamp, or similar decoration to slip through. It was even easier to detach the Vicomte from his daughter by whispering silkily in his ear. _"Monsieur, look up, and do remember to keep your hand at the level of your eyes."_

The last thing he thought as he leaped down into the box below was _strange, the color of those fear-struck eyes were brown, he could have sworn that the Vicomte's eyes were green . . . _

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There it was, a scream. It was impossible to miss that ear shattering sound, and Christine groaned. Oh now he really did it. Someone was going to be sleeping on the couch for a very long time.

Still, it gave them a direction to run in, and the sight that greeted them, truly was something to shake the imagination. As suspected there was Erik, and a young blonde man in a noose, yet that didn't seem like the Vicomte. Provided, she had only talked to him for a few seconds . . .

Yet her worst fears were confirmed when she noticed the angry young woman, and the furious green eyes. Aria's eyes were a eye-catching gold, just like her fathers.

Oh no, it was one thing to try to strangle someone, it was another thing entirely to try and strangle the wrong person . . .

She caught Erik's guilty eyes in a murderous gaze as he went to unwrap the noose from around the unfortunate man's neck. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else." He offered a lame apology to the furious woman next to him.

"Why were you trying to strangle him in the first place!"

Erik fumbled for an answer. "I umm . . .I mistook you for my daughter, and then . . .well, he was kissing you, . . .and well." He knew perfectly well that he was droning on like a fool.

The woman sighed as her partner gasped for breath. She held up her left hand to let Erik observe the rather large wedding band on her hand. Was it possible for this moment to get any worse. Christine took pity on her husband, and walked into the couple's view. "I'm so sorry madame, Monsieur, my husband hasn't been doing well lately, and I can assure you that we are leaving now."

The blonde man stepped forward, "Begging your pardon Madame, but you just tried to kill me! Why should I just let you walk away!"

His wife's furious gaze mirrored his.

Erik sighed, and pulled a thick wad of francs out of his cloak, "I'm assure that this will cover any hard feelings, and injuries sustained."

The couple's eyes lit up at the sight of so much money, and Erik was able to breath a sigh of relief.

Needless to say they left as quickly as possible. Erik tried his best to avoid Christine's furious gaze. Maybe he should of taken his chances with the authorities. Nothing they could do could compare with whatever Christine was thinking . . .

Through the haze of swirling emotions he realized that he still had no idea where Aria and her date were . . .

**Not my best chapter, yet funny I think. Trust me, it really gets better from here.**

**Next chapter . . . we drop in on the happy couple**

**MJ**


	7. Backstage Mishaps

**OK here's an update for all of my patient readers. I love you all!**

**Chapter Seven  
Backstage Mishaps**

Aria sank back into the plush armchair, and breathed out a sigh of relief. She was actually on a date. A _date_! She had never thought that she would get this far. Ever.

She wondered how she should act on a date. Should she talk to him? She looked over at his handsome face, and felt her stomach flutter. Was it to late to be thinking about marriage? She sighed as she turned her attention back to the stage.

She had wrote to her brother in England on the subject, and he just told her to make sure dad was secured at home, and even then make sure her date constantly had his hand at the level of his eyes. She had scoffed at his comments. Dad might be a little overprotective, but he would never do something stupid like that. At least she hoped that he wouldn't.

Mom hadn't been any help on the subject either. When she had asked, all Christine had said was that she and father hadn't really dated, and that if her relationship with Phillipe was anything like theres then she should get out immediately. That made her wonder. She knew that her father had been the Opera Ghost, but she really didn't know more than that. They joked, and alluded to that part of their life often, yet beside a butchered version that she had heard when she was four, she really didn't know any more than that. Her thoughts were interrupted when Phillipe leaned over and asked. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

She lowered her Opera glasses to look over at her date. "Yes, very much."

Phillipe smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. "How's the music?"

Aria tried not to cringe. The leading tenor was adequate, yet the supporting tenor was playing a part that was clearly out of his reach. The prince of darkness didn't have a high, squeaky, painfully alto voice. The orchestra was amateurish, and if the second Baritone hit one more flat A instead of a sharp A, she would personally strangle the poor excuse of a second chair musician. A loud annoying trill hit her sensitive ears, oh yeah. Would someone please do the poor girl a favor, and just drop the chandelier on the pitiful leading soprano. The part of Margarita was being torn to shreds under La Loretta's oppressive voice. Yet she managed to smile at him.

"The music is wonderful." She said.

Phillipe arched a perfectly formed eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really." She lied.

"You're lying." He told her softly.

She turned indignant golden eyes on him, managing to look like she actually meant it. Another flat A from the Baritone player hit her ears. "Augh!" She sighed in disgust. "If someone doesn't strangle that Baritone player, then I will." She caught Phillipe's slight smile. "What? Are you telling me that you can't hear that?"

"The music sounded fine to me." He admitted. "But then again, I am what is commonly known as tone death. It all sounds the same to me."

Aria shook her head in barely disguised pity. A life without music . . . without all that power and passion available in just one chord. Music was in her blood, it ran through her soul. Without that she'd just be . . . well, so much less. Like an artist without a canvas. She sighed. "Poor, pitiful creature left in darkness."

Phillipe smiled. "Well I've gotten along just fine without music."

"I'd die without it." She said, and she knew that she wasn't exadurating. Tuning back into La Loretta's trilling voice she winced ant then said, "Good music anyways."

"Well, you'd outshine them all." He said. She blushed softly at the compliment. "Thank-you." She said softly before turning her attention back to the stage. Faust had been one of her father's favorite productions, and her mother still sang parts of it often. There was something so tragic about the man who went so far to sell his soul to the devil for the love of the one woman that he knew he could never have. It ended so sadly to. She was such a sucker for doomed relationships. "My mother used to sing here." She said softly. "She resigned her position when she became pregnant with my older brother. He's a concert pianist, and architect in England." She said proudly. She smiled softly. She missed Charles, and her little brother, Marc, who was gone visiting him. She couldn't wait till they returned.

Phillipe tried not to wince at the mention of her two brothers. They were almost as bad as her father, and he had purposely waited for them to both be gone before he asked permission to court Aria. Trying to get back to nicer things he said, "My father used to patron the Opera a long time ago."

Aria smiled. "I wonder if they knew each other."

"I guess it's a small world."

She smiled warmly at him. Christine Destler, and the Comte De Chagny.

What a funny thought.

* * *

Christine was livid as she angrily paced around a now empty corner of the backstage. "I can't believe this." She snapped. "Out of all of the immature, rash, stupid things you have done!" 

Erik, who was quietly studying the audience from the wings, said, "Well, I'll admit that it is quickly climbing the charts. But I apologized."

"Great, you apologized!"

Nadir had to cough to cover his laugh, and Christine sighed, rubbing her temples with her long, slim fingers. "This beats making Carlotta croak hands down."

Nadir smiled. "Stealing the cat's collar."

"Pretending to be a angel."

"Calling the Khanum a plain, unimaginative whore straight to her face."

"Blackmailing the managers."

"Crashing the chandelier." Nadir said, then his eyes narrowed in thought. "Well maybe the chandelier incident was worse but, still."

Erik ignored them as his golden eyes scanned the audience. Looking for Aria, and the Vicomte de Fop Jr. He'd need a more accurate I.D. before he tried to strangle him. He was lucky that the other couple didn't make more of a fuss. That could have caused him some very unwanted problems. His line of thought was caught off as he found them. Oh no he didn't! That's it! The boy was dead! Out of all of the idiotic, stupid, FOPPISH things to do!

Christine noticed that something had changed. "Erik?" She questioned slowly.

He could only rasp out. "Box 5."

Her blue eyes instantly darted up to the infamous box. Oh no, why? she turned to Erik. "Erik, we are leaving here right now. I don't trust you here one moment longer."

Nadir looked up also, then looked in concern at Erik. "Leaving might be a good idea. You taught Aria well, and I'm sure that nothing would happen. She's too much like you two."

Christine glared. "Helpful until the last line."

"Sorry."

"It's not her I'm worried about. It's him that I don't trust." Erik snarled. "And he's in my seat."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Yes it was your seat. Many years ago."

"My seat!"

"Years ago!"

"Remind me not to take anything that at one time belonged to you." Nadir said.

Erik glared at the Persian. "Well there is one good thing about Box 5, I know an easy way to keep an eye on them."

Nadir's eyes lit up. "The column."

"Precisely."

"That could work." Christine started slowly. "You could listen in while not interfering. All parties are satisfied. It might be a little tight for both of us, but we'll manage."

Erik cocked an eyebrow. "Both of us?"

"Yes. Both of us. After earlier, you need a chaperon."

"You still don't trust me?"

"Not one bit."

Erik sighed. "It'll be really close courters. You might not even fit in there by yourself." He gestured to her bulky skirts, and proper evening where.

"We'll manage." She said, as the applause from the audience grew louder. She looked like she was ready to continue when the company exited the stage. There was utter chaos as people shouted, and scenes where shifted back and forth. She glared at Erik from across the sea of heads, and he jut shrugged. Over the noise she heard the stage director announce the one minute mark. She moved closer to the stage to get out of the way. Frustrated and impatient.

The backstage director moved past Erik, barely glancing at him. Then suddenly he turned around and looked again. Erik was about to ask him if he had a starring problem when suddenly the short man said, "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be going on stage. The garden act starts once you appear."

Erik looked down quizzically at the man. On stage. Nonsense. He hadn't performed on stage since the performance of Don Juan Triumphant . . . his eyes widened in realization. Dr. Faust . . . who had just sold his soul to the devil. Dr. Faust . . . who looked almost exactly like him in black mask, and all black attire . . .oh no.

This really wasn't good. . .

Before he could protest he was quite forcefully shoved on stage by a group of very determined stage hands who efficiently drowned out every one of his protests. On no, Christine wasn't going to be happy . . .

Would this count as keeping a low profile . . .

His time to think was drastically reduced as the bright lights of the stage greeted him. This most decidedly was not a good day . . .

The conductor looked at him quizzically, but only shrugged as he gave the opening cues. The orchestra started up the opening measures, and he was left to wonder what dismal soprano he would have to listen to butcher Margarita's part. To his surprise he he recognized a very agitated, not so happy looking, oh-no there was going to be trouble latter Christine. Her hair mussed and messed from fighting the people who had shoved her on stage.

So, cause a big scene, make a disruption, and most likely face charges from higher authorities, or . . . sing one of his favorite pieces with his clearly agitated wife.

He decided to sing.

**Author dies laughing, OK I really enjoyed that, and I hope that you did too.**

**So read and review. Plllllllleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssssssssseeeeeeee review!**

**MJ**


	8. Faust and Margurite

**Chapter Eight  
Faust and Margarita**

_You've got to be kidding me! This can't be happening . . . why!_ Her golden eyes turned molten as they zeroed in on the stage. _I don't believe this! Of all of the ridiculous, immature, FOPPISH things to do!_ Her breathing turned shallow and choppy as the orchestra started up the opening beats to the gardening act. Why . . .? Why? . . .Why. why!

Next to her, she noticed Phillipe study his program in puzzlement. "I wonder why they made a lead change this far throughout the show," He muttered curiously, "I don't see it scheduled anywhere."

"Oh it's not scheduled," Aria whispered darkly, her hands gripped the red velvet arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white."At least, it better not be." She took deep breathes trying to make her breathing calm and reasonably regular, her tries were in vain.

Phillipe glanced at her curiously. "Do you know something about this?"

Aria took a deep breath trying to quell the temper she had inherited from her infamous father. "i have an idea."

He arched a bleached eyebrow invitingly. Silent as his beautiful blue eyes asked her to continue. She considered her answer as she watched Faust and Marguerite take center stage. It had to be them. The mask, the cloak, the scowl on his face. They were things she had grown up with. She couldn't be wrong. "Those are my parents."

Phillipe's perfect face paled, and became slightly larger. "Your parents?"

She nodded uncomfortably, almost sure that she would die from embarrassment. How could he? She was almost sure that her father was behind this! She didn't know how, but she had an idea why. If he was trying to spy on her, then he'd be less obvious about it. He was smarter than that. All he was doing this way was draw unwanted attention to himself. Was he trying to make her die of shame? Maybe he had planned it this way. Maybe this way Phillipe would never want to speak to her again.

Maybe he'd want to find someone with normal parents.

She tried to quell her rising anger, and Phillipe had to hide a grin. Her parents would make for a very interesting relationship. He noticed her white knuckled grip on the defenseless chair. "Are you planning on releasing the arm chair anytime soon?"

She blinked away the angry haze that had covered her eyes, then looked at him as if she had just remember that he was there. A blush spread across her face as she caught his stare. She drew her hands away from the chair and tried to ignore the angry impressions left behind in the expensive velvet."I'm so sorry about this." She said. "I have no idea why they are here. They're not normally like this." She stumbled through her excuses.

Phillipe raised a eyebrow. "They're not?"

She gave a frustrated sigh. "Okay, but are you telling me that your parents have never done anything to embarrass you?"

Phillipe looked thoughtful. "There have been some instances, yes." He smiled in amussement. "Yet they have never tagged along to one of my dates, and somehow ended up onstage during one of the most prestigious operas in Paris."

Aria groaned in misery as she buried her head in her hands. When she looked up her eyes were burning with pain and indignation. "I'm so sorry Phillipe. I can't believe they would do this! Ah! Why doesn't he trust me!"

Phillipe laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as she looked at him tentatively. Expecting him to want to leave immediately. "Don't worry so much. I find the situation rather amusing. Let's just see what happens. I'm sure that everything will be just fine."

She turned a miserable glance back to stage. Everything would be just fine,

Just fine.

**I'm back! I'm not dead. It was only a bad combination of writers block, laziness, and exams! Yet now school is done, and my muse is back!**

**Now review!**

**(Does happy dance)**

**MJ**


	9. My Father's Opera

**I know that this is my second time posting this chapter, but I just went through and edited the whole story, and I'll have an actual update in a few days.**

**Chapter Nine  
My Father's Opera**

Erik needed to look away from his wife. Anywhere but Christine and her molten blue eyes. He had to fight back the urge to smile, which would just enrage her even more. Yet, he could see the managers at the stage entrance. They were yelling at the embarrassed looking stage director, before turning to glare at the two unfortunate usurpers. Still, they could only watch helplessly. They wouldn't dare interfere and risk embarrassment.

Smiling he tapped his foot slightly and tunned himself to the orchestra's beat. Slightly autempo, but he was a master musician, and it was easy to adapt. Gathering his courage he turned a hesitant glance to Christine as he sang Faust's opening lines. Would she sing? He wondered. He needed her to sing the first verse of the garden duet. The orchestra gave the cue. Erik winced.

Christine sang,

_"I wish I could know who was he_

_that addressed me_

_If he was noble, or, at least,_

_what his name is."_

Erik closed his eyes as his crystal clear soprano rang throughout the theater. A voice never sounded as good as it did when resonating throughout that famous auditorium. A smirk lifted the corners of his mouth as he noticed how the managers look ofembarrassment and desperation turned to one of surprise. They had a lot more coming Erik thought wickedly as Christine sang on. Eventually her part came to an end.

Erik sang.

_"Let me gaze on the form before me_

_While from yonder over blue_

_Look now the start of eve_

_bright and tender lingers o'er me_

_To love thy beauty too."_

As he sang he looked up and over at Box 5, only to see Aria's eyes shoot golden daggers at him. He turned to look at the viscount to actually see a look of surprise on his face. He looked shocked. _'Well where do you think she gets her talents from?_' Erik thought irritably.

Their duet continued. Powerful voices mingled and clashed as the audience watched in awe. Never before had they heard a duo like this before. Some of the older ones in attendance whispered about a opera only played once aopera called Don Juan Triumphant where the ghost had sang with his leading lady.

They said that even the chandelier had fallen in reverence.

Christine looked over to the wings as she tried to gouge the managers reactions. A smile threatened to split her face as she saw Nadir conversing furiously with them. _Oh my friend_. She thought. I _owe you so much for this. Now after tonight we shall forget this ever happened and go on with our lives. Plan? Yes. A very good plan._ She breathed a sigh of relief. Yes she had everything figured out.

Yet to her horror she saw another approach the trio. A middle aged man with vibrant shoulder length blonde hair. Hair that had only began to be touched at the temples by gray. Horrified blue eyes widened in shock as she took in the aristocratic strut, and piercing green eyes. Boyish smirk, and oblivious grin . . .

Raoul! Her mind shouted, and she closed her eyes in pain. Why now? Why tonight of all nights? Her next verse was coming up, and she twisted Erik so that his back was towards the managers. No matter what happened she couldn't let Erik see them.

If he did, they would have some major problems on their hands.

_"Oh, how strange!_

_Like a spell does the evening bind me!_

_And a deep languid charm_

_I feel without alarm_

_With it's melody enwind me_

_And all my heart subdue."_

Erik looked curiously at his wife, and wondered what had gotten into her as she launched into the verse with a new enthusiasm. She looked sweetly at him, as if they where on the stage all them years ago. Her small hands were held in front of her chest in her character's supplication, and her eyes were no longer furious. They were worried.

The last time she gave him that look she tore his mask off.

Something was wrong.

His fop senses were tingeing.

Christine wasn't at all tactful as she spun him around, her voice breaking innocently as she got into playing Marguerite. A girl looking to be saved by angels even as she was seduced by the man that sold his soul to the devil. He may be deformed, but he wasn't blind.

She was trying to keep him from seeing something.

He wanted to know what it was.

_Come on Erik! Just for once let me manipulate you! I know that you are a genius, but for once can you just play stupid! Do yourself a favor. Come on! Don't turn your head! You idiot. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in prison. They'll have you hanging before dawn._

Fed up, she reached up and actually turned his face towards her as they sang the final note. A ear piercing high C that would make any other couple slump forward in exhaustion. But the preoccupied couple hit it effortlessly, making the audience watch in awe.

The note died away and the audience jumped to it;s feet in rigorous applause. There was no time to enjoy it though as she noticed where Erik's gaze had turned. "Raoul de Chagny!" He bellowed at the petrified count. "I hope you remember to keep your hand at the level of you eye!"

Christine closed her eyes and prayed.

Nadir stepped in front of Raoul, begging Erik not to do something foolish.

Raoul looked ready to flee.

Erik didn't give him any time.

**Hmmm. Would this be considered a cliffie?**

**Review and tell me what you think. Please. Good or bad, I'm all for it.**

**MJ**


	10. And it All Comes Down

**Chapter Ten  
And It All Comes Down**

The music came to a triumphant conclusion, and the audience watched in stupefied amazement as the couple that came out of nowhere took their bows. Aria however was not so impressed. The daughter of the Phantom was angry.

Oh have pity on everyone around her.

"Phillipe," She said sweetly. "Would you please accompany me back stage?"

Phillipe looked up at the strained undertones in her voice. "Whatever you wish milady. May I ask if everything is all right? You sound rather strained."

"I'm not strained in the slightest." She said, and Phillipe shook his head, but he got up to accompany her none the less.

"I merely have some unfinished business to take care of."

* * *

Meanwhile, backstage, someone else had some very unfinished business to take care of. Now it was the time for explanations, and apologies. And if Erik had it his way there would be a few deaths as well.

Yet Christine and many other witnesses were there, and so that particular part of the plan may have to take a back seat to other, more pressing matters. Still, he smirked evilly at the horrified expression on the Comte De Chagny's face. 'Watch yourself , you don't want to walk down any dark alleys tonight . . .

Yet before Erik could have the immense satisfaction of another showdown with Raoul, he was stopped by the two managers and a handful of still stunned gendarmes. "Monsieur! Madame!"

Erik cringed, he had forgotten all about the pompous music illiterates. Now for a quick, on the spot lie. Yet he found that he had no need to, Christine was one step ahead of him, "I'm so sorry! We can explain everything!"

"Oh, there is no need to Madame. Your Persian friend here has explained everything." Christine turned surprised blue orbs to where Nadir stood. The look in his eyes clearly said, _'You owe me. Again.'_ The manager continued. "What an ingenious way to audition! That has had to be one of the best duets since, well I'm not sure how long!"

"It was!" Erik was merely shocked that he wasn't getting arrested.

"Oh yes, and we must say that we would be happy to hire you two for the upcoming season."

Okay. That was an unexpected development. One that wasn't exactly welcome either. He had had his fill of the theater. Erik grimaced as he caught Christine's glare. In her eyes this was his fault, and she fully expected him to get them out. He sighed. It looked like he was back to this again. "I'm sorry Monsieur, but I'm afraid that I will have to decline your generous offer."

"What! But why!"

"You see, "Erik started, now in full actor mode as he pit on his best remorseful face. "It seems that I have come down with a rather dreadful skin disease."

He could literally see the manager's face fall. "Oh . . .how horrid."

Erik braced himself, and slowly began peeling the mask away from his face. Revealing gnarled flesh, and twisted bone. To the manager's credit he didn't scream. Yet his face paled drastically, and one could actually see the dollar signs fade from his black beady eyes. His voice was rough and shaky as he said, "O-oh, t-that would p-present a p-problem! Is-is that permanent?" He was still hopeful.

Erik frowned as if in contemplation. "No, but the doctor did say that it was highly contagious."

That did it. "Oh no! Monsieur!" The manager began to back away slowly. "Y-you just c-c-call when that goes away!" The manager was gone, and the gendarmes weren't too far behind him.

Erik tried hard not to laugh. He really did. Yet it was no use. The looks on their faces were just too priceless. A deep chuckle escaped him as a small, but very firm hand grasped him by the shoulder and forced him to face her. his wife's normally calm blue eyes stormed, and she said, quite sternly, "We are leaving. Now."

He finally nodded in agreement, and was even going to leave Raoul in peace when a piercing voice cut into his escape. "Dad!"

he stopped dead in his tracks. Oh no . . .

He turned around to see his clearly agitated daughter coming towards him. Anywhere to run? Anywhere to hide? His golden eyes flickered around desperately, and then came back to his daughter uninspired.

Curses.

"Are you leaving so soon father?"

Well, he was . . .yet now she was here, and he had to rethink his plans. Behind him Raoul stiffened in nadir's tight hold. "Daughter?" He asked incredulously. "She's related to you?"

Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and snapped, "Of course she is, why else would she call me father?"

Raoul flattered for a moment, seriously considering his answer. The he looked Aria over, and said, "Well I didn't want to assume, she's beautiful, and you're . . . well . . ." Raoul broke off, not wishing to sound rude, but the damage was already done, and Erik glared at him.

Oh how he longed to strangle him.

Just this once . . .

Christine squeezed his hand in a pointed warning, and she looked at her daughter. "Aria," She started, trying to smooth things over. "how is your date going?"

Aria smiled at her mother. "Divine mother, thank-you for asking. Everything was perfect until someone decided to crash the opera." Aria gazed coolly at her father. Awaiting an explanation.

Erik wondered how to simplify things, not wanting to sound too rude. "I just wanted to follow you, you know, so that nothing would have happened." He rubbed at his neck in agitation. He shouldn't have to explain his actions. "I just . . ."

"Didn't trust me?" Aria finished for her flustered father.

"Yes. No! I trust you, I just don't trust him!"

Aria's eyes narrowed. "Phillipe is the sweetest boy on the planet, he would never dare to do anything like you are suggesting!"

"That's exactly it. He's a _boy_! It's not about wither he's nice or not, he's predestined to be a pig! It's part of being a boy!"

A more timid voice cut into the wonderful bonding moment. "Phillipe?" The comte asked.

Aria turned to the noble. "Yes, why do you ask monsieur?"

Raoul looked flustered. "He's my son."

Aria's eyes widened, and then she walked over to him. "I'm very pleased to meet you, I'm Aria Destlar, and your son was escorting me tonight."

Raoul took Aria's hand, and bowed like the gentleman he was. Erik growled. Raoul asked. "Where is my son?"

"He ran on to an acquaintance, he said that he's meet me momentarily."Her eyes narrowed in the perfect impression of a angered teenager. "I didn't want him to have to meet my father here."

Raoul tried not to laugh. "I can see that." Erik tried very hard not to break something.

Behind them, another joined the tense group. "Father! What are you doing here?"

Raoul cringed, and it was his turn to play the part of the flustered parent. "Um, Phillipe! How are you doing?"

Phillipe ignored his father's greeting. "You promised not to interfere this time!"

Raoul cringed, and Erik tried hard not to cheer. Finally! The tables were turned in his favor!

Aria looked over at her date. "It seems that we suffer from a common malediction."

Christine bristled at being called a malediction, and Raoul was still trying to figure out how to talk to his son. "I was just worried about you. You're my heir, and I have never heard of the girl who you were courting. For all I knew, she could be some common harlot out to steal your money."

Erik glared at that, yet Aria didn't look insulted, so he let it rest. Phillipe didn't say anything, he merely waited for his father to continue. "Yet now I understand why you were so drawn to her." Raoul smiled, and turned to Christine. "It is good to see you again Little Lotte. It has been far too long." Raoul smiled, and bowed to her.

Christine smiled back. "It is nice to see you too." She linked her arm through her husbands. "Perhaps we can meet again under more pleasant circumstances."

Erik bristled. More pleasant circumstances would involve a rope and a death.

Raoul turned to his son again. "I'm sorry for interfering, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

He turned to leave, and Aria turned to her father. "See, why can't you be like that?"

Erik glared, and softened when he saw no more anger in his daughter's eyes. "Do you really want me to be a fop?"

Aria looked aghast at her father insulting someone that he had 'just meant,' and amazingly it was Phillipe who laughed.

Aria softened at his mirth, and Erik went to address his daughter again. "Aria, you are my only daughter. Any boy with you is going to hurt more than you can imagine. I know that I got carried away tonight, and I sincerely apologize for that. It won't happen again."

He saw Christine glare at him, and he knew that at least that much was true.

He sighed. "You're my little girl, and it hurts to see you grow up."

Aria smiled at her father, and moved forward to hug him. "I love you daddy."

Erik squirmed a little, unused to affection in public, and hugged his daughter back. At length he pulled away. "Now go and enjoy the rest of your evening. I promise that I won't interfere."

Aria looked dubious. "Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

One Hour Latter

"She's late."

By five minutes Erik."

"She's still late."

Erik glowered as he peeked out of the window once again. This really was too much for his nerves.

Late. Late. Late . . .

A second latter a carriage pulled up to the house, and Erik jumped up to watch. Heart in his throat, and lasso in his hand. If that boy made one wrong move . . .

Christine sighed from across the room. "You haven't learned to trust your daughter yet?"

"I trust her just fine." Erik mumbled as he watched the couples progression towards the front door. They were almost there. "I've explained myself on this subject a couple of times now."

Christine shook her head, and got up to join her husband at the window. What a perfect end to the evening.

She was ready to retire when all of the sudden Erik shot to his feet, and yelled. "I'm going to kill him!"

"What happened!"

"That boy dared to hug her!"

Christine sighed, and hugged her husband in a calming manner.

Here we go again.

**The End**

**OMG! I updated! It's done!**

**So, I just want to say how much I appreciate all of my loyal readers. I'm so sorry that this took so long. I really don't have any excuse. I can only hope that this made up for it.**

**So, thank you all for humoring me this far!**

**Until the next story,**

**MiraJade**


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